


de l'obscurité

by seenonlyfromadistance



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Rough Sex, The Vampire Lestat - Freeform, all sorts of misery and discomfort and unhappiness, i guess, not exactly consensual sex, uncomfortable sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:12:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seenonlyfromadistance/pseuds/seenonlyfromadistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are intimate three times-- similar in that their intimacies are steeped in darkness, different in every other way. Lestat and Nicolas, the Wolf Killer and the Violinist, the Vampire and his progeny, doomed from the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	de l'obscurité

**Author's Note:**

> So I know that technically Anne Rice's vampires can't have sex. I have ignored that in favor of smut-- and the first smut I have ever seen fit to publish.
> 
> Really this is just an excuse to write as explicit what I think is explicitly implied in the book-- that Lestat and Nicolas are lovers, but are doomed by Lestat's abrupt conversion to vampirism and Nicki's horrible, horrible self-destructive depression.
> 
> Also I guess it should be noted that this 'takes place' somewhere before Lestat and Louis are reconciled at the end of _The Vampire Lestat ___

The only night we were truly together, when we were both men and not monsters, was the night before my turning. Nicolas had turned to me in a flurry and kissed me hard and pure on the mouth and said, "let's go to bed."

I had followed him without hesitation, feeling suddenly that I was on the precipice of a brand new life about to truly begin-- and how right I was, as it turned out. Though I did not imagine a life of darkness and death, but rather a golden, bright life of successes and happiness and Nicki, always Nicki, forever Nicki; of Nicki and I forever and ever together. I imagined that I would be able to pull him out of his sadness in this new life we would build together. That I would make him happy and he would become the violinist he had always dreamed of being and we would spend long days laying in the sun together.

I loved him so purely that night. My heart brimmed over with love for him and in a way I found inexpressible I knew that this was goodness incarnate. What I felt for Nicki was the only pure and good thing in the world-- better than art, better than acting. My Nicolas was good, utterly good, no matter his claims to the contrary. I was sure of it.

He took me to bed and laid me out on our thin straw mattress. We had been sharing for weeks, ever since the air grew cold with winter. For weeks we had laid back to back on the mattress, feeling each other breathe at night and feeling the heat from each others bodies. While I'm sure we both had, in those nights, wanted more, wanted to turn around and clutch to the other and whisper secret declarations, we did not. Oh, how I wish we had. I had longed for him for months, aching for him in a truly human way. How I desperately wish that our one night of love and happiness had been many nights, over many months, many years. That we had started sooner and had more time before Magnus stole me for his own.

I never truly belonged to anyone in the way I belonged to Nicolas. I have loved more deeply since Nicolas, felt more powerfully, needed more desperately, but Nicolas was my first and last in many ways. Nicolas, Nicolas, Nicolas. To this day his name haunts me and hurts me. 

He was the precursor to everything.

This night, this one beautiful night, as the moon shone crisp and clear through our dingy window, Nicolas led me to bed and kissed me breathless. His time at University had given him more practice than I had ever known, and his kisses drew from me shudders and sighs. I lapped him up, keeping hands on his hips and back, relishing every moment of the beginning of what I thought would be the rest of our lives together. I would have time to learn.

I was naive then, and didn't know yet that all good things are destined to end, and they will never end happily.

We kissed and Nicki touched me in a way that made my stomach clench up into my chest. His hands stroked down my chest and arms, and then slipped lower, dragging over my groin through my breeches. I shivered, arching against him.

"Nicki," I whispered. "Oh Nicki, beautiful Nicki." 

"Lestat," he sighed, my name like a prayer dropping off his tongue. "I love you."

"Yes, yes," I breathed. "You cannot know how desperately I have longed for those words, and how surely I return the sentiment."

"I am in love with you."

"Yes," I said, not knowing why the clarification had been necessary. Had our hearts not communicated enough already? Did we not already know how the other felt? "I am in love with you, Nicolas."

"Oh, Lestat," he sighed against me, pressing kisses to my throat. His quick fingers slipped up under my shirt, brushing over my stomach. He breathed hot against my neck, his fingers scraped over my chest and then lifted my shirt over my head and off. The air was cold and my skin shivered. The warmth of his breath was a welcome feeling as he began to kiss along my collarbones. "I want to ruin you. I want to taste and bruise every inch of you."

"Nicki," I murmured, pulling at his shirt, "yes." I wanted desperately to feel his skin against my own. I wanted to taste his throat and feel his heartbeat. Retreating from his affections, he allowed me to pull his shirt off over his head. I fumbled it and he laughed as he untangled the shirt from his ears; it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, second, perhaps, only to his violin music. But Nicolas' music only ever made me feel tragically sad, whereas his laughter brought me a feeling of happiness and light. It filled my heart. I smiled broadly. He tossed his shirt across the room, where it fluttered to the ground in darkness, the candles having long since gone out.

"You are so beautiful," Nicolas said. 

Next thing I knew, our mouths were together again. With a wet swipe of tongue he pried open my mouth and I relaxed, making myself pliable and loose, accepting his lead happily. Hands slid down my sides, clinging to my ribs. Without moving from my mouth, and so without looking, his long violinists fingers slipped the buttons of my breeches free, and began to slide them down my legs. Impatiently, I bucked my hips and tugged at the pants myself, hoping to get my clothes off as soon as possible. Nicki laughed again and I grinned like a cat. His laughter sent a shiver down my back, a sharp jolt from neck to tailbone. I was already half hard, and the feeling of Nicki's firm, thin torso under my hands only exasperated the situation. I wanted him. I needed him.

Moving slowly, Nicki nipped at my neck and pinched my nipples. With a groan, I lifted my hips, trying to make clear what I wanted. His hands touched me everywhere but where I wanted most, and he grinned wickedly against my ribs, which he was currently tracing with his tongue, my fingers tangled in his hair.

"Nicki, please," I mewled, and he appeared properly in my line of vision again, his brown eyes twinkling. We kissed, and with a light push I flipped us, pressing him down onto the bed as I triumphantly found myself above him. I ground our hips together, feeling through the thin fabric of his breeches that he was hard too and finding the pressure and friction I had wanted.

It took only a moment to divest him of what little remained of his clothes, and then we were simply naked together, our skin hot and beginning to become slick with sweat. His skin was beautiful and flawless, darker than my own and taut across the muscles of his stomach. He was healthier then than he would be when I turned him, his body fuller and softer. I kissed at his belly and he grabbed hold of my hair. 

"You are so beautiful," I said as I began to kiss lower. I rubbed my cheek against his cock, and he arched his back. My hands settled at his hips and I took him into my mouth, lapping and sucking with an unpracticed enthusiasm. He did not seem to mind that I didn't know exactly what I was doing. For my part, I was happy merely to taste him and have him under my hands. My months and years of aching lust finally coming to a head. 

He said my name over and over again: "Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, oh God, Lestat." 

With great pleasure, I felt his body twist and tighten under my attentions, and I imagined myself tuning his body like Nicki tuned his violin-- a twist here, a pluck there, until everything was tight to just the right level.

My own stomach was tight with desire and need, and in the cold air of our garret apartment I could hardly stand to be so far from the heat of him. So I climbed back up and aligned myself with Nicki's waiting body, the hot touch of his skin a welcome feeling, and an immensely pleasurable one. I rutted against him, rubbing our hips together, and he gasped; his arms wrapped themselves around my back and he clung to me, his nails digging into my shoulder blades. Using my knees, I edged his legs apart and then hiked one up over my back. Nicki went along, hooking his knee over my hips. Our groins aligned and his cock brushed against mine. I grew even harder and found myself whimpering as Nicki began to move his hips, forcing us together in a rhythm of pressure and pleasure.

Hot pleasure pooled in my core as we writhed together, panting against each others ears and occasionally pressing sloppily wet kisses to each other's jaws and lips. 

I still had my strong hunters body-- and still do thanks to Magnus' gift-- so to stay perched atop Nicki, our bodies flush together from chest to thigh, was a question of arms and strong back and gravity. I could have stayed there all night quite happily. My arms did not ache or grow tired. But I knew that there was more we could do, and I wanted it. I wanted to claim him and take him, and I intended to do so.

My fingers found their way to Nicki's mouth, and he took them, scraping his teeth along the pads of my fingers and sucking. I moaned, my other hand fisting into the bedsheets. Nicolas, my dear Nicolas, dragged his hands down to grab at my lower back and then to trace the hard line of my hip bones. I shuddered and he bit down on my fingers lightly. 

"Yes, Lestat. Yes." My fingers slick with spit, I reached beneath him and traced the crease of thigh meeting buttock. My chest was tight now with nerves, and I looked into his deep eyes, darker now that I had ever seen them, and then pressed my finger into him. Nicki hissed, his back arching and his hips lifting off the bed. 

I hushed him, kissing him gently, and began to work my finger in and out of him. When I felt his body begin to relax, I added a second finger, and then eventually another. Under me, Nicki writhed, his breath coming in short huffs, his teeth gritted. It must have hurt him, but he said nothing. His skin was shining with sweat, and I had never seen anything more beautiful than the glow of his chest and the sweet pinkness of his nipples in the darkness. When I removed my fingers, he let out a small whine of perhaps disappointment, and a huff of breath as if he had been holding it.

Biting my lip, my chest tight but my desire tighter-- coiling almost painfully in my stomach, low in my stomach, hard and strong and desperate. 

More spit, because it was all we had, and then I had my elbows under his knees and was lining myself up, staring all the while into Nicki's eyes. Folded under me as he was, he seemed vulnerable in a way I had never seen him, and I liked it. 

"Are you alright, Nicolas?" I asked, kissing him. 

"Yes, Lestat. Yes." His cock was hard between us, pressing against my belly insistently. Biting at my lower lip and keeping my eyes locked on his, I slowly pressed into him, feeling the tightness of his body all around me. I closed my eyes at the feeling, relishing in the warmth and the pressure and Nicki's arms around my neck and his fingers digging into my shoulders. But Nicki had given a sharp cry of pain, low and guttural and shuddering, and it halted my enjoyment sharply, my eyes snapping open.

"Nicki?" 

"It's alright, I'm alright," he answered, though his voice was shaking and I could see the beginning of tears in his eyes. He breathed out a shuddering breath and I could feel his body relax slightly around me. 

"I'm sorry," I said, and began to pull out of him. He stopped me with a firm hand on my back. 

"No," He said firmly, his eyes strong again though still wet. "Keep going." 

"But doesn't it hurt you?" I didn't need him to answer. "I don't want to hurt you, Nicki." 

"Just..." he took another slow breath, and pressed his hips forward, inching me in slightly further. I inhaled sharply. "Just be slow." 

And slow I was. Together we found a comfortable push and pull, and I hissed with every press, receiving only pleasure from the sensation of his body tight around me. His hands stroked lightly over my back and shoulders, and sometimes over the lines of my face. His long fingers, so beautiful, traced my nose and cheekbones and eyebrows. He would run his fingers over my mouth and I would chase them with kisses, sloppy and shuddering but genuine. 

Sweat pooled at the base of my spine. 

I don't think I had ever been so happy.

As I felt myself getting close to my own release, I shifted my weight so I had a free hand. Nicki looked at me curiously, his forehead shining with sweat. I kissed a droplet from the bow of his lips. I lurched to tug his hips up off the bed and rest them on my thighs; the change of angle cause Nicki to cry out, and I looked to his face. His previous looks of pain had disappeared, and now his smooth forehead and open eyes spoke only of pleasure. There were tears on his cheeks that I had not seen before. I kissed them away. Reaching between us with my free hand, I took hold of him as I had many times taken hold of myself, thinking of him. He gasped and I felt his fingers tighten on my back, digging into my skin. With a groaning grunt, I began to stroke him in time with my thrusts; the sounds he made were unbearable. He pressed his hips to meet me, his eyes fluttering closed. 

"No, Nicki, look at me, please," I whispered, dropping my head to his shoulder despite myself. I bit his throat gently, a scrape of teeth, and he mewled happily, a little squeak escaping him. I chuckled and looked up to find his eyes half-lidded, but open, and watching me closely. "Nicolas, Nicolas." I pressed forward to kiss him, and he bent to meet me, giving a small grunt of exertion twinged with something higher pitched. 

It didn't take too much longer, and I felt him tighten around me, a few choked sounds escaping from him. I felt him spill over my fingers and while the stickiness of it, the wetness and the slickness, made me feel slightly disgusted, the sounds Nicki made and how those sounds made me feel-- that I had drawn these sounds from him, these desperate, beautiful sounds... that feeling of joy overwhelmed every other sensation. While his fingers dug into my back, I felt his breath hot against my forehead and then his lips, pressing over and over against my brow. I spread my hand against his stomach, feeling those firm muscles and rubbing his own mess into his skin. 

"Lestat," he murmered, his body going loose and limp beneath me. "Oh, Lestat." I could not contain myself, and kissed him languidly, still maintaining my rhythmic push into him. He groaned, and finally I came with his name on my lips, my entire being coiling tightly into my gut and then releasing. 

"Oh God," I sighed. He shushed me. I needed a moment to catch my breath, and then I pulled out of him, feeling loose and exhausted and unbelievably happy. I lay next to him and pulled him close, wrapping one arm around his bare shoulders and the other around his waist. In that moment, I wanted never to let him go. "Beautiful Nicolas." 

"Beautiful Lestat," He said, as if to correct me. I laughed. He pressed a kiss to my jaw, then turned my face with one finger in order to capture my lips. 

We lay together quietly, panting and kissing. His hands clung to me, his fingers hot against my skin. I smiled against his mouth. 

"Are you happy, Nicolas? Right now?"

He merely kissed me. 

"You'll never leave me, will you?" I asked. He laughed that sweet laugh once more. 

"Oh Lestat," Nicolas sighed, running his fingers through my hair. "Who can know what the future will bring for us." He had not answered my question, and I began to feel the chill of our little room once more. "Perhaps you will leave me?"

"No," I said, meaning it truly. "Never. I can't even consider it." 

I kissed him on the tip of his nose, and on both his eyelids. 

"We will spend the rest of our days just like this, together and happy." 

I could feel sleep pulling at us, and Nicki's laughter, his free and beautiful laughter, grew quieter. 

"Oh Lestat, how beautiful your dreams are." But I did not think it was a dream. As I held him in my arms, my Nicki finally mine, I thought, in every possible way, our future together seemed a sure thing, not a beautiful dream. I could see no alternative than to spend my days with him until we both found our deaths. "How beautiful." 

I have never belonged to anyone in the way that I belonged to Nicolas, but he never belonged to me. Not really. I understand that now. 

Later that night, Magnus came to steal me, and I cannot suppose what Nicolas thought and felt the following morning. I knew that I felt immense grief, knowing I could never be with him again, as we had just hours ago. Those moments, that infinite sweetness, was forever gone.

\---

After rescuing him from Armand, I carried him all the way back to the tower. Gabrielle guided the horses, and I clutched Nicolas to my chest and whispered nonsense to him. I said his name over and over again, and apologized, and he remained silently pressed against me, his face nestled in the crook of my neck. He was silent. His breath was warm against my skin. He was unconscious for a long time, and yet I continued to whisper to him, hoping my voice would bring him comfort in his dreams.

But he writhed in his sleep, and I knew that there was no comfort to be had for my Nicolas.

In the tower, as he rested, I lay next to him and stroked his hair. I brushed my fingers over his eyelashes, long and dark against his cheek. His skin was pale and dabbled with bruises, his throat swollen from where those dark creatures had fed on him. His cheeks were pink, however, pink and lovely as ever, with blood and perhaps fever. 

I could see the blood pumping through him, see it and hear it and I longed to taste it. His scent overwhelmed me and I felt as though it was seeped into my every pore. Blood and salt and smoke and oh god, the blood, so much blood. 

This was why I had avoided him for so long, wasn't it? That the risk of hurting him was too great? I did not want him dead, and yet I wanted to drink from him until there was not a drop of blood left in him. I was sure he would taste better than anyone I had ever drank from, and the temptation was too, too great. I wanted Nicki by my side forever, as I had wanted from the first moment I had awoken as this dark monster, but I also wanted him to live, and I wanted... 

What I wanted was a mess of contradictions in my mind, and I thought perhaps I could claim all of it for myself by giving him the dark gift. My Nicki, my love, mine forever. We would walk into eternity together, arm in arm, hand in hand. 

I had given it to Gabrielle, and she had thanked me for it. Would Nicki do the same when he realized that we could be together forever, as happy and complete as we had ever been in life? We needed to be equals once more, and then we could be divinely happy again. That seemed the key, and yet I was not willing to _kill_ my Nicolas. For that is what it was to make him like me. It was to kill him.

I would rather he live, and never have him again, I told myself firmly. 

But that wasn't true at all. 

I was selfish, and I would have him.

Gabrielle was suddenly in the door, and I felt her gaze upon me as I cradled Nicolas in my arms. Her face revealed nothing, but I could tell she was disappointed in me, and frightened for me. And perhaps displeased with my explicit love for Nicki, though she said nothing about it. 

"Lestat," she said in her husky, soft voice. "My sensitive boy. Do not do this thing. He won't thank you for it."

"I love him, Mother," I said into his hair. "I love him." 

She knew it would be disaster to change Nicolas, and I could not listen to her. I refused to see the truth she saw so clearly. I had convinced myself that it would be perfect and beautiful-- but if I had been so sure, why hadn't I changed him immediately? Why hadn't I made my Nicki like me as soon as I realized I could have? The doubts that had kept me from doing it those months ago were still there, in the back of my mind. But remembering how he had looked in the crypts of les Innocents... I could not bear to see him hurt ever again. I loved him too, too well. 

"I love him, and I want him with me."

Nicolas was already broken beyond repair, and had been perhaps for as long as I had known him. He would never have made a successful vampire, and I refused to see this. I refused to see much about Nicolas, even when we were both mortal. I had refused to see his unhappiness, refused to see his self-destructive miseries, refused to see that he had wanted to go down and wanted to drag me down with him.

Yes, I loved him, and no, I didn't not want to hurt him. And I was conflicted. I did not know what I would do. My mind fluctuated from decision to decision with each moment. I looked at Gabrielle and knew I would not change him. I looked to Nicki and knew that I would. 

And that night, he was still mortal. I lay at his side and washed his face of blood. I licked at his wounds and tasted how sweet he was. I touched his skin, leeching warmth from him. I would have been happy to hold him in my arms just like that, for eternity. 

He woke slowly just after midnight while the night was still dark and quiet around us. 

"Lestat?" He asked, as though still dreaming. Hearing his voice, hearing him say my name, brought a red hot thirst to my mouth. I lusted for him, and hungered for his blood. "What's happened?" 

"You've been hurt," I said gently, working to contain my want for him. "It's alright now."

He looked at me and furrowed his brow. I could sense him remembering, and surely there was something in my face which revealed how inhuman I was. "Oh God," he said, "oh god, Lestat," and he began to struggle against me, pushing with weak hands and an aching body. "This is why you disappeared? Because you are a-- because you have become a--"

"A monster? Yes, Nicolas." 

His struggling stopped, and he stared at me simply, his face open and wondering. In him, I could hear conflicts as strong as the conflict I felt in my own heart. He hated me and was furious with me, yet he loved me and was glad to be near me again; he was frightened of me and what I had become, and yet envious of my gifts and new abilities. I was and was not the Lestat he had loved and once been comforted by. I ran my fingers down his arms. I was and I was not a monster like the monsters who had kidnapped him and hurt him.

His face softened. He was beautiful. So so beautiful. There was hope in him. And life. 

"Not a monster. An angel." He touched my face tentatively, feeling my smooth, cold skin. 

"No, Nicolas. Not that at all." My hands settled on his hips and I leaned in to kiss him, just as we had when we were mortal together. His lips were soft and warm, and the smell of his blood was nearly overpowering. 

"An angel of darkness. The consummation of everything I have believed in," his voice was barely above a whisper. I did not understand him, but I had never found him so intensely alluring. His skin was flush and warm and a sheen of sweat clung to his chest.

"Nicolas," I said, and he pressed kisses to my face and jaw and neck. 

"You must give it to me, Lestat," he whispered. "You must share with me this power. You kept it from me, but you mustn't any longer." Now Nicki kissed me on the mouth, forceful and persuasive. I opened myself to him, and tasted him happily, drinking him up. I had missed his touch and had not realized it until this moment when I could taste him yet again. "Please, Lestat, please," Nicki begged. 

His voice was tired and sleepy-- weak-- his body heavy in my arms. 

"Rest, Nicki, you must regain your strength." I needed to regain my strength too, and my will to deny him. 

"I don't want it," he said. "I want your strength. Give me this." I kissed him and bit at his lip, breaking open a scab from his horrible treatment at the hands of the vampires of les Innocents. He hissed, but did not retreat. I tasted his blood and it tasted good. 

My hands slid along the lines of his body, hard and angular from the months of my absence when drinking and illness had ravaged him. 

"Do not ask this of me, Nicki," I sighed, and his hands trickled down my chest, playing me like an instrument. I shuddered. He loosened my trousers and slid a hand down to find my cock, already growing hard under his attentions. This was manipulation, certainly, but I was happily allowing myself to be his violin. I knew I should push him off, but the heat of his hand was too much for me and I could not. He began to stroke me slowly, his face tilted against my jaw. I could feel his sharp, sad smile. 

"Lestat, please. We could be together forever. Isn't that what you want?" 

My heart clenched and I pushed at him, pressing him back onto the bed and straddling him to keep him in place. 

"Nicolas, stop this." 

"Come, Lestat." Hands dancing over my chest and throat, he pulled me down into another kiss, and rolled us easily so I was on my back and his weight was pressed against me. "Don't you know to take a good thing when it comes to you?" My resolve utterly gone, I wrapped my arms around him, clutching him to me. 

I sighed his name against his ear, and he laughed. That warm, sweet laugh. It softened my heart yet further.

"I want it," he said; "I want it." 

Kissing me, Nicolas ground against my hips with his own, and then reached between us to continue his work at my hardness. I groaned and sighed, having not felt this since my turning. My voice cracked and I shut my eyes. Nicki pressed kisses to me, huffing warm breath against my face and throat with his exertions. His touch was forceful enough, his grip tight enough, his tongue wet enough against my throat.... I felt pleasure and only pleasure. I ran my fingers up his chest, and he shivered. 

"You're so cold," He said with a twist of his wrist. My fingernails dug into his ribs and he hissed.

"And you're so warm." 

To have Nicolas under my fingers, and to have him touching me like this... it was a joy I thought to have left behind me with my dark rebirth. But there he was. 

He ground his hips against mine and tugged and touched and scraped his teeth over the shell of my ear. I rutted against him and just as I felt my release swelling, I pulled him tight against me, wanting to take in everything I could of him, every scent and taste and sensation. 

I said his name as I came, and he kissed me hard. 

I never wanted the moment to end. I would turn him if he wanted it, and I would turn him right away. 

He panted against me, smiling, and then looked down at his hand, still loose around me between our stomachs. His eyes widened in panic, and I looked down to see what concerned him, only to see that his hand was covered in blood. 

Blood. Of course. 

He stared down at the blood, and I watched him, seeing his mind click and consider and churn.

"This is what I am now, Nicki. I am a true evil, a devil made of blood and death." I took his blood covered hand in mine, feeling the slickness of it between our fingers. I kissed the corner of his mouth, and then the back of his hand. I cleaned the blood from him with my tongue, slowly, and he watched, his expression unreadable. 

And then he leaned down to kiss my blood stained mouth, and tasted my blood and did not retreat.

"Nicki--" 

He kissed me again, harder. 

"That is what I want, Lestat." I tasted myself on him and a thrill of fear shot through my heart. I think in that moment I saw and understood what he would become. But the moment passed, and I merely returned his kiss. 

One last demonstration of my monstrous gifts, I abandoned him on the bed and was across the room in an instant. He stared after me, his eyes wild. How small he looked on the bed then, and yet how undeniably attractive. I could have him like this forever, I thought, and the idea thrilled me. He was vulnerable, yet powerful. I could feel the force of him from across the room, feel his need and his anger and his heart, his strong heart, beating beating beating...

"Come to me, Nicki," I whispered, lifting both hands to beckon. I was a blood stained ghoul, and I hoped he would refuse me. "If you want it, you must come..."

But come he did, flinging himself from the bed with an animal intensity, running across the room and into my arms, crying my name. 

"Let us live like this always," he said, and I believed him. I believed that that was what he wanted. 

I kissed his neck before biting him, and just as I had thought, he tasted sweeter than any man I had tasted before. 

I turned him and then could not stand the sight of him. I had destroyed everything we could have ever shared, and destroyed it in an instant of selfishness. But I think he could not stand the sight of me either. Our promises to each other, to live eternally together and love one another and be happy, disappeared along with the beat of his heart. 

\---

Before the violin, I had looked at his blank face and empty eyes, and tried to find the man I had loved and lusted after within that shell. I had looked to no avail, and though his disappearance just hours ago had put panic into my heart, and reminded me that I did love him, what I had actually loved was gone forever, though I did not know it yet. 

Then I had pressed the instrument into his hands and after the violin, he was a different monster entirely. 

He played his devilish music and danced his horrible dance with the others, and it disgusted me and I called it petty and it was as though I'd slapped him.

I retreated to my former dressing room with Gabrielle, and Nicki followed, striding in with a barely contained fury and passion. It made me uncomfortable and nervous and unhappy. With a strength that surprised us all he pushed Gabrielle out of the way, and cornered me in against the wall. "You are too bright," he whispered coldly, his frightening eyes so close to mine and his lips turned upwards in the mockery of a smile. He was ugly to me. Completely ugly in his hatred of me. "Far too bright." 

Moving with his inhuman speed, he spun on his heel and shoved Gabrielle out of the room, snapping at her to leave us. The other vampires, the remnants of Armand's coven, hovered at the door in curiosity and scampered away at Nicki's command. Nicolas stared down Gabrielle, fury in his eyes. I nodded at her, and she retreated, keeping her eyes on me to the last. In a second, Nicolas had slammed shut the door and turned the lock, and then was back on me again. 

"I thought we would come to Paris and burn! But you burned too brightly! You succeeded at every turn where I had expected we would fail and come to ruin. All I have ever wanted was ruin!" He threw his hands up, his delicate, beautiful, exquisite hands, and tossed his head. 

Pulling me to him, Nicki shook me hard, laughing with a bitterness and madness which frightened me. Disaster, disaster-- my mother's voice haunted my thoughts now. His eyes were alight with a mad fire, and I shoved him off me. He stumbled, smashing the mirror with his right hand and cracking his head against the far wall. He fell against the floor, still laughing, but for a moment he lay still like a broken thing. Then he turned to me and extended his hand towards me. A shard of glass stuck out of his palm, glinting in the candle light of the room. 

"Look," he said, "look!" Closing his palm, he drove the glass deeper into his flesh. Blood leaked from him, dripping through his fingers and down onto the floor. 

"Stop, Nicki! Stop this!" I rushed to him, prying open his fingers and removing the glass. I licked the blood from his palm gently, waiting for the wound to heal, which it soon did. For a moment he allowed my ministrations, and I wished that I could heal all of him this easily. I wished that I could heal his broken mind with kisses and patience. But then he shook me off. He was on his feet again and paced for a moment, prowling like a wild creature, before coming to stand just before me. With a tenderness which gave me momentary hope, Nicki lifted his hand to cup my jaw. I smiled. I felt the coolness of his skin and the warmness of his blood, most likely staining my cheek. I murmured his name softly.

Calmness had swept over him. He slid his hand to the back of my neck, tangling his fingers in the hair there. Comforted, I leaned into his touch. I hummed, seeing a warmth in his eyes which I had not seen since his turning. But I think I was imagining it. I kissed his palm and immediately his demeanor shifted into fury once again. He tugged at my hair, forcing my head back and my mouth open.

"Nicolas!" I gasped, or attempted to, but his mouth was pressed against mine already, jammed against me in a sharp, painful kiss. His teeth were sharp and hard and I tasted blood. Hand still in my hair, he held me in place and plundered my mouth. 

"Lestat," He growled, and the vibration sent a jolt through to my toes. "Lestat, you bastard. What have you done to me?" 

I wanted to remind him that he had asked for this, nearly begged for it. That he had wanted the dark gift for reasons that were entirely his own, and I was willing to give it to him because I could not bear the thought of losing him-- though now I was beginning to realize that I would lose him anyway. Likely I had lost him already.

Yes, he was gone to me. He had played me like he played his fiddle, and weaseled from me the dark gift. Darkness was all he wanted. 

I wanted to remind him that I had loved him more purely than I had loved anyone or anything, and I wanted to remind him that I would always love him in this way, no matter how violent he turned towards me. A part of me would always love him and need him and desire him, even as other parts were terrified, disgusted, and horrified by him. 

I hated him and I could not stand what I had made him, and who he was now that he was a vampire, but still he was my Nicolas. My love. 

He shoved me, and I stumbled back against the dressing table, catching myself by putting my hands in the glass of the broken mirror. Nicki was not far behind, swarming over to me and taking hold of my head again, only to smash my face against the remaining shards of the mirror. I groaned, feeling blood beginning to drip down from my forehead and cheekbones. His mouth was then on mine again, tasting my blood and biting my lips.

"I hate you," He said, shoving me back against the shards of the mirror. "I hate you." 

"I love you, Nicki," was my only response. Roughly, Nicki bit at me and grabbed hold of my legs, hitching them up over his hips, pressing our groins together and pinning me to the mirror. I gasped and felt glass prick at my back. "I am in love with you." 

He laughed then, and it cut me to my very core. His laughter was in that moment the ugliest thing I had ever heard, no longer the dancing beautiful sound that I had once cherished. "Oh, Lestat. You fool." With inhuman quickness, he dropped my legs and spun me about, pressing my face into the broken mirror again, and holding me there as he pressed bodily against my back. 

I closed my eyes. The weight of his body left me just long enough for him to tear off my coat, and then returned even as his hands reached to claw at my breeches and pull them down. One hand resettled on my hip, and I took hold of it, forcing our fingers to intertwine, trying to remind him of all we had shared. I felt the cool air on my back and legs and bit down on my lip. 

"We loved each other once, didn't we, Nicki?" I said, my voice pathetic and weak as it had been in my worst moments as a mortal. "We were in love. And we were happy once. Weren't we happy?"

"No," Nicolas says with a derisive sneer of a chuckle. "No. I was never happy."

We may not be able to procreate, but we can use our bodies. And use it he did.

Nicolas pressed into me without care or preparation. I cried out and pressed my free hand into the broken shards of glass before me. 

He fucked me hard, rutting and biting at my throat hard enough to draw blood. He tasted my blood and drank from me and I pressed my forehead against the broken mirror and felt it cut me. Blood dripped down my face and from my neck and from other places too, I was sure. It felt as if my body was being torn apart, and yet held together by cool hands and a hot mouth. And all of this was Nicolas. 

It hurt. It hurt immensely. But I knew it would heal and I would take all the hurt and abuse that Nicki wished to toll out to me. I would accept it so perhaps his anger would be spent and he would return to me in love. Or because it would be the one thing I could give him. I could not return his mortality, or his happiness (for I _was sure_ he had been happy once), or his sanity, but this one gift I could give him. The gift of my punishment. The gift of vengeance. I could give him power over me and I could give him destruction.

And Nicki, my once ever gentle Nicki, took my gift and hurt me. 

He hurt me and I accepted it, accepted his punishment because part of me knew that I deserved it. I had done this terrible thing to him and I deserved his hatred and anger and violence.

Blood and blood-tears streamed down my face, and I clung to him, holding tight to his hand where it gripped to bruise my hip. "I love you, Nicki," I murmured again and again, a chant, a prayer, even though my heart was swelling with hate and disgust and disappointment. "I love you and I am sorry."

"Shut up," he growled. "Stop talking. This is it. This is the last. No more. Never again." 

Despite their vague meaning, I understood him, and these words hurt me most of all. The sharp pain that shot through my chest then had nothing to do with the painful violence he was inflicting upon me, nothing to do with his hands like claws on my hip and wrapped around my chest. 

"After this, Lestat, lovely Lestat, we're through." He whispered against my ear, his breath cool and painfully thick with disdain and hate. "Never again. You will give me the theatre and the money I need, and then you will leave me alone and we will never be together again."

"No, Nicki," I said, half whispered half groaned, because the pain was starting to become too much. It was seeping through my body like a poison, uncontrollable and filled with fire. "Don't say that." With a harsh snap of his hips, he elicited a cry from me-- a gasping sob which stopped my words.

Somewhere off in the distance, it seemed, I heard a knocking at the door and Gabrielle's voice calling for me and pleading with Nicki to let her in. 

"Please, Nicki, no." I was begging now. Though I hated him then, utterly hated him and he hated me, I could not stand the thought of being without him. Yes, I hated him but I loved him more. The two feelings mingling in my heart and creating conflicting impulses and pains. "You cannot mean that. I _know_ we were happy once. I know it. We could be happy again, my Nicolas."

He laughs, that cold bark once again. "You fool! You beautiful idiot!" 

He bit hard into my throat once more and shuddered against my back, with a whispered, familiar, "Oh god." For a moment after, it was silent. Just Nicki's breath against my ear and the distant sound of Gabrielle's voice.

Nicolas said nothing as he pulled away from me. I collapsed to the floor, my body giving up. I sat slumped in the shards of glass for a long moment, not looking at him. Then Nicki knelt to look at my face one last time. He was entirely put together again, his hair in order and his clothes tidy. The only sign of our encounter that remained on him was a single spot of blood on his collar and a smear on his palm. I felt myself begin to cry again, the blood-tears sliding down my face. "You look a fright, Lestat." 

I could say nothing, but looked at him, trying to find anything familiar in his brown eyes. But he was a stranger to me, cold and hard. 

"Good-bye, Lestat," he said, and leaned in towards me. "Good-bye." I flinched away from him, but he chased, forcing himself on me again. He kissed both my cheeks, and licked away some of the blood which no doubt coated my face. It was a false tenderness, and I felt mildly ill. One last painfully hard kiss to my mouth, and he was gone, unlocking the door to the dressing room and disappearing into the darkness of the theatre. 

I did not move. 

I could hear his voice ringing through the building, speaking in loud, enthusiastic tones to the remnants of Armand's coven, to the living skeleton of the coven he intended to lead. 

Gabrielle stood in the doorway and looked at me. I could say nothing. Eventually she led me away, and 

I did not return to the Theatre of the Vampires for many years. 

\---

And I miss him. To this day, I miss him. Yes, even now, even after everything, I miss him and dream of him and wish for him. My Nicolas. I ache for him as I ached for him when I was mortal, and would have him in any form. I would take him as he was during those golden moments at the Inn, beautiful and young and whole; I would take him as he was before I turned him, broken and miserable and nevertheless alluring; Yes, I would take him even as mad and hateful as he was the day he walked into the fire. 

Though I have loved and lost many since Nicolas, his loss hurts me every time I think of it. No one can compare, not really, not even Louis. No, not even Louis, because Louis still walks the earth and I may yet have a chance to reconcile with him and bring him back to my side. My mistakes with Nicolas hurt me more than any I have made since. I should never have let him go and should never have left his side. Perhaps if I had stayed with him and helped him develop his theatre, I would have been able to help keep his mind from collapsing. Perhaps I would have been able to bring him back to love and to health. Perhaps he would still be alive now, and by my side.

Ah, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. It is useless to think about, and yet I consider it anyway. I spend long evenings plucking at his Stradivarius and thinking of how things could have been different, if only I had done this or that. If only, if only. 

I dream of him and because I did not see him die with my own eyes, broken and mutilated and wild, I dream that he is alive somewhere still and will come to me someday. That it was all a lie and he will come to me with hands intact and hair flowing and eyes wide, and we will spend our eternal lives together as I had always imagined. 

I can imagine him in this time, proud and arrogant and fierce. His short life as a vampire was dominated by this arrogance, and I would love to see him flourish in this modern age. I imagine he would cut his hair each night when he awoke, following modern fashions and relishing in the opportunities his immortality granted him. I dream of us, laughing together sitting among the piles of his hair. These imaginings and dreams are foolish, because all they do is hurt me. 

Perhaps my music is for him. My music, which is as beautiful as it is hideous and chaotic and discordantly cacophonous. The music he made on the night he founded the Theatre des Vampires comes to me sometimes, when I write my own songs. I think there are echoes of those wild notes in my own rock ballads. 

Perhaps I imagine that I can tempt him back to me with these wild and wheeling pieces of music, so inspired by his own. 

Nicolas. My Nicolas.


End file.
